Love Shack
by A Beauty to the Rhythm
Summary: <html><head></head>"He almost lets it go. Almost doesn't press the issue. But the thought of the noises she'd make with his mouth at her throat, their chemistry on display for others to watch and enjoy, is just too tempting." A few chapters of AU spiciness that takes place after 7x02 - "Montreal."</html>
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: For the purpose of this fic, let's assume that following 7x02, "Montreal," Castle and Beckett haven't had naughty times yet. Hope you enjoy! -Bri x_

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><p><strong>Love Shack<strong>  
>Chapter One<p>

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><p>"No. I'm sorry, Jordan, but we can't. No, he's fine, it's just … we're not in a great place right now."<p>

Castle slows as he approaches Beckett's desk, straining to piece together the words that she's murmuring into her cell phone. He does know one thing - she's talking about him.

The dull ache in his chest intensifies every time he gets close to her. He's been home for two weeks and he's still shellshocked by the abrupt change in their relationship. So he watches her through the metal room divider, studying her. Her head is bent over her desk and she has one hand pressed to her forehead.

He used to love these moments when he could observe her from afar. It used to be the only time he could just stare, could let his love take up more room than air in his chest. But for the past two years, he's been allowed to look at her whenever he wanted, and he wonders if maybe he'd started taking her for granted.

But now that it's back to surreptitious glances, he's reminded of how very extraordinary she is, and of how very much he loves her. He hates seeing the extra tension she's carrying along the line of her spine. Hates the stiffness of her arms, the hesitance in her smiles. He hates knowing that it's all his fault, but more than anything he hates that he doesn't know how to fix things between them. He hopes a vanilla latte will make a start. It's the first time he's brought her coffee to work since the day they went to get their marriage license and failed so spectacularly.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't approach Gates with this," Kate continues into her phone. "Yeah. Okay, thanks Jordan. Let us know if we can help in any other way, or on any other cases. Okay. Bye."

Kate brings the phone away from her ear and thumbs the call off, brushing her hair behind her ear with her other hand. He misses her voluptuous waves, but her new haircut is so simple and sexy that he can't complain.

He picks up his pace and puts on a show of making his entrance. He misses being real, being with her in the safety of their bedroom, but even that sacred ground is tainted now. In fact, that might be where he has to act the most these days. Because she's right, they're both not ready, and they're acting like they're okay when they're really not.

She touches him so carefully these days, holding her heart just out of reach, and it's so different from the reckless, radiant abandon of their previous life behind closed doors that it makes him want to slide down the wall and sob. Just last night, they'd spoken words to one another that were meant to soothe, but even they hadn't managed to close the gap between them. She'd laid her ear over his heart, but they'd fallen asleep and rolled away from one another sometime in the night. That would have never happened before.

He misses the Kate that couldn't get enough of him. And it's not like he doesn't _want _her. He feels the familiar stir of desire in his body every time they touch, but he tries not to let the electricity reach his heart because he's not sure he could take the rejection that's so obviously waiting one question or heated kiss away.

They haven't had sex in two weeks - well, two months and two weeks, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He realizes that two weeks would probably sound normal for other people, but for him and Kate it just isn't. Not after four years of holding back. When the floodgates opened on that rainy night in May, they just hadn't stopped. Until now.

Castle sets her coffee down on her desk and sinks into his chair. Didn't he used to wait for her to take it from his hands, just to feel her fingers brush against his? He gathers his courage and tries again, lifts his eyes and the cup, and something flickers deep in her eyes, recognition, maybe, or happiness. She reaches for it and her pinkie slides against his thumb. He swallows. Yep, it's all definitely still there, for him at least.

"Thanks, Castle," she says, a little shyly.

"You're welcome. Who was that on the phone?"

"Mm? Oh, just Jordan Shaw."

She's not being very forthcoming. Luckily, he's a nosy rascal. He wouldn't want to change that now and throw her off. He already gets the impression that he's not acting like the man she fell in love with; he's not about to go changing his behavior on her.

"What were you guys talking about?"

"Nothing, Castle," she sighs, and his heart sinks because the old Kate would have laid into him for eavesdropping.

"Didn't sound like nothing. Were you talking about me?"

"Can we just drop it, please?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Have you met me?"

"She wanted our help on a case, okay? That's all."

"So…?"

"So what?"

"What case? What does she need us to do? When do we start?"

"I said no, Castle."

"Why?"

"Because - because we're not ready yet."

"Not ready to solve cases? Because I think we just solved one yesterday," he points out.

"Not for this case," she mumbles, just quiet enough for him to miss. Almost.

"What do you mean not for this case?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Castle. She wanted us to go undercover. At some place called…" she looks down at her legal pad and reads the words hastily scrawled there, "The Mansion of Dionysus."

Castle chokes. "The Mansion of Dionysus?"

"You've heard of it?"

"Of course I've heard of it. The place is legendary. They say Dionysus hosts the sexiest parties of all time - all candles and lingerie and people doing dark things in dark corners. It's invite only, of course."

He had tried to score an invite in the height of his playboy days after Kyra broke his heart, just before he met Meredith. He'll save that confession for another day, though.

"I thought the place was a myth," he says. "But if the FBI is claiming otherwise … oh my God, Beckett, you have to call her back."

He's wanted to go to a Dionysus party for decades. And it would be amazing to attend one with Beckett. He'd learned early on in their relationship that she had a bit of a fetish for almost getting caught doing … inappropriate things. And how brilliant would it be to go to a party where he could touch her and not have to hide it? His blood runs a little hotter in his veins at the thought, and he shifts in his seat.

"Castle, I don't think it's a good idea to go undercover as insatiable lovers," she hisses. "Especially since we haven't … you know … in two and a half months," she whispers harshly, eyes flaming and hurt.

He almost lets it go. Almost doesn't press the issue. But the thought of the noises she'd make with his mouth at her throat, their chemistry on display for others to watch and enjoy, is just too damn tempting.

He thinks about how he can get her to change her mind. He'll have to appeal to her sense of justice. It might not work, but it's certainly worth a try.

"Why did Jordan call us? Doesn't she have some agents who could do it?"

Kate swivels in her chair and looks at him incredulously.

"Don't be stupid, Castle, of course she doesn't. She can't ask her employes to pretend to _have sex _with each other while they're on the job."

Oh, if he can convince her to go, there won't be anything pretend about it.

"So," he says, measuring his words out carefully. "If we don't go, they're just not going to send anyone? Who are they trying to catch, anyway?"

"The man who hosts them, apparently - Dionysus himself. They don't know his real identity, but two couples have been murdered in houses linked to his parties in the past three weeks."

"Hmm. Well, I hope they can catch him some other way. Sounds like he's bad news."

He taps his fingers nonchalantly on the smooth wood of her desk and looks around the bullpen, pretending to have dropped the conversation.

Kate grunts frustratedly. He risks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She's focused on her computer screen, clicking around angrily with her mouse. He's pleased to find her cheeks flushed, the same way they get when they build theory together, or when she gets really annoyed at him for pestering her. It feels like home.

He waits for it.

Three … two … one …

"Fine," she says, snapping up her phone and jabbing her finger at the glass to call Jordan back.

Castle hides his grin.

"Hi, it's Beckett. I just talked to Castle. We'll take the case."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This chapter is for Meg, whose friendship is the icing on the already delicious cake of writing for this fandom._

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><p><strong>Love Shack<strong>  
>Chapter Two<p>

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><p>"Are you sure this is the right way?" Castle asks. "It looks kinda ominous to me."<p>

The moon hangs low and yellow in the sky. It's close to midnight and inching towards Halloween, and he'd be enjoying the spookiness of it all if he wasn't so damn nervous. His mouth is dry and he's been popping extra strong mints for the whole hour that they've been in the car. The taste reminds him of first kisses and listening to Guns n' Roses and being sixteen. Kate's scent wraps around him in the obnoxiously small sports car they've been given and _damn_, he really hopes he can control himself tonight. Hopes he's not pushing her too far, too soon.

"Yes, I'm sure," Kate sighs, smoothing the map over her bare thighs, covering the skin that her indecently short dress doesn't. She runs one blood-red fingernail along the edge of the paper and stares out into the blackness beyond the car window. They're in a rented Aston Martin Vanquish, on a road with no streetlights, headed into the middle of nowhere. She hasn't had to use a proper map in years, but Jordan wanted them completely off the grid tonight. In their briefing, they'd been warned that their electronic devices would be collected the door to prevent any photo or video leaks. Jordan had given them two burner cells to replace their iPhones - it would look odd if they showed up without anything to leave at the coat check - but the phones aren't charged and the SIM cards are still in New York.

They're going in blind, without backup, without a panic button. It's a preliminary recon mission and they're not in any immediate danger, so there's no need for earpieces or microphones. Dionysus might not even be at the party tonight. Years ago, Castle heard a rumor that the infamous host only attends on special occasions, smaller gatherings with handpicked couples. Jordan thinks tonight's party will be significantly busier.

At any rate, Kate's thankful for the radio silence. She doesn't need a bunch of Feds hunched over in a white van listening to her relationship issues.

She switches on the overhead light for a second to check the map. "We're coming up to the turn off, I think."

Castle slows down, looking for an intersection. "Um, you mean that really creepy gravel lane?"

"Must be. There's only one road on the map."

Castle's hands dwarf the steering wheel as he makes the turn. Kate bites her lip as she watches the muscles in his forearms flex, his fingers curling tight around the wheel. It's been so, _so_ long since she's touched him. She'd barely been able to sleep last night - there had been too many tempting scenarios floating around in her head, images of what they might get up to at this party.

She'd wanted to reach for him in the dark of their bedroom, to guide his hand to the ache between her legs, but instead she'd shoved an extra pillow between her thighs and forced herself to think about work. Baseball. Anything but the man beside her and the things they've done together, the things she wants to do with him all over again.

She's not even sure what's holding her back. Fear of rejection? Fear that it won't live up to her expectations? Those are familiar worries. She thinks back to their very first night together, to when she'd been feeling the same things. She'd been brave that night, and she hopes some of that courage will find her tonight. She doesn't have the immediacy of hanging off a roof to push her that little rest of the way into him.

It would crush her if she comes onto him and he tells her he's not ready. He'd hesitated that first night. She'd craned her neck to kiss him, desperate to feel the soft heat of his lips on hers again, and he'd caught her wrist and held her away from him. Will that happen tonight? If he thinks he never left her - and she believes him - is choosing to believe him - then why hasn't he been pawing at her like he's always done?

She swallows down the hard knot of doubt that's been plaguing her for months, the thought that maybe he'd backed out of their wedding because he simply didn't want to be with her anymore.

One of her coping mechanisms was to remember the expression on Martha's face when she'd asked if Castle had any misgivings about their marriage. She repeats his mother's words like a mantra: _he couldn't wait to be married to you. _

He never wanted to miss their wedding. He didn't want any of this.

They have even more proof of that now, after he'd stupidly flown up to Montreal on his own. After he'd shown her the video that had broken her heart even as it mended it.

Besides, he was the one that had been adamant about taking this case. He must know that a bit of making out isn't going to help them blend in at this party. He's going to have to touch her. Her hand comes up to her mouth involuntarily, her teeth closing on her thumb. She crosses her legs and looks out the window again.

The road they've turned onto is narrow and dark. There's a canopy of leaves above them, and their headlights are garishly white against the thick underbrush lining the road.

"I'm really not in the mood to do the Time Warp tonight," Castle mumbles, and Kate smiles behind her hand.

They swing around a bend and she swallows hard at the sight of the imposing mansion that suddenly looms in front of them. The curtained windows are glowing with different shades of purple and red. Two rows of outlandishly expensive vehicles lead up to the house, and there's a huge LED- lit fountain in front of the mansion. It's all so completely over the top, and Castle looks like a little boy in a candy shop.

They find a spot next to an electric blue Ferrari and Castle kill the engine. Everything is still for a moment, and Kate feels like she's been tossed back in time to before she'd let him in. They'd spent hours in cars together, driving all over New York, chasing down leads and parked on stake-outs, all before she knew what he felt like underneath her.

They've come so far, and yet they're right back at the beginning again.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she murmurs.

"I know, right? It's totally awesome."

She raises her eyebrow and he backpedals.

"I mean - you know - it's awesome that we're helping to bring down another villainous murderer for the FBI."

"So," she purrs, "it has nothing to do with being able to make out with me while I'm wearing a slutty outfit?"

Castle sputters, then finds solid ground, leveling that sincere gaze of his on her that she finds so impossibly sexy.

"It has everything to do with making out with you, Beckett. And for the record, I think your outfit is very classy."

His words are a spark. The first innuendo since he came home. It feels so good, so warm and familiar as it rushes through her veins.

_Enough_, she thinks.

It's time to let go. To stop being so careful with herself, with him. She wants _them_ back, and the only way to do it is to jump in and hope that he catches her.

So Kate reaches down to the bag by her feet and pulls out a pair of black thigh-high stockings. The moonlight glosses over her bare legs as she slips her feet out of her black velvet pumps. Then she props a foot up on the glove compartment and starts to roll one stocking up her leg. She knows exactly what she's doing to Castle, and isn't disappointed when she tosses him a daring little look. His jaw is slack, his eyes wide and dark.

"Okay. Might have to revise that statement," Castle says, his voice a whole octave lower. "That is definitely not a classy outfit."

There's a gap between the bottom of her dress and the top of the stockings, and he looks like he wants to lean over and lick the golden glow of skin that's still exposed.

But she's not finished.

She inches the skirt of her dress up just a little bit, keeping her eyes trained on his face. She'd almost forgotten how fun it is to tease him.

She finds the small strips of elastic that are attached to the garter belt at her waist and stretches them down so she can attach them to her stockings.

He makes a strangled gurgling noise.

"Something wrong, Castle?" she asks innocently.

"No. Uh - no. Nothing wrong." His eyes are glued to her lap, watching her nimble fingers do up the last of the suspenders.

"Just want to blend in," she says. "You said candles and lingerie, right?" She finishes doing up her stockings and still he doesn't move. "You gonna be a gentleman and get the door for me?"

"Yeah. Uh, yes. One second." Castle tears his eyes from her and opens the door, stumbling a little as he unfolds himself from the low seat. He comes around to her side of the car and opens the door.

"Milady?" he says, extending a hand.

"How chivalrous of you," she grins.

Her hand fits perfectly into the warmth of his larger one, just like it always has.

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><p>They make their way up to the house. She hesitates once, only slightly, but he feels it when his hand presses just a little more firmly into the small of her back as she slows.<p>

His words are warm on her shoulder, barely a whisper, and they give her the strength she needs. "I've got your back, Kate."

She struts the rest of the way to the door, hips swaying, and she can feel the sweep of his eyes over the curve of her ass in the tight black dress, over the garters and the stockings and her calves and down to her three-inch heels. She smiles.

The heavy oak door swings open before she can knock. They exchange a look, then Castle wraps an arm around her waist and they go inside together. The room is small, just an antechamber, really, and the walls are upholstered in a deep maroon velvet. There's an elaborate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Loving the gothic revival," he whispers out of the side of his mouth.

Castle's not entirely convinced that this isn't some joke, some hoax that the boys dreamed up. It would be the cockblock of the century if it turns out that they're actually at a haunted house or something. But it's all a bit too elaborate, and he doesn't think Jordan Shaw would bend the rules quite so far to participate in a little prank.

The door on the other side of the antechamber swings open, and any doubt in his mind is washed away when he catches a glimpse of what's going on in the next room. There's a lot of skin. A lot of naked skin.

A tall, thin man glides through the door, closing it firmly behind him. Only the pulsing bass line of the trance-like music makes it through the thick walls. The man is wearing a coppery mask that covers his whole face, and his eyes glint from behind the eyeholes.

"Welcome to the Mansion of Dionysus, Mr. and Mrs…?"

"Alexander," Castle says smoothly.

"Ah, yes." The man speaks with a buttery English accent. "We're delighted to have you with us this evening. As it's your first time with us, we'll need you to look over the house rules."

The man hands them something that looks like a leather-bound menu from a fancy restaurant.

"Please, take a seat if you wish," he says, gesturing to a plush velvet bench along the wall. "But first, may I take your electronic devices to the coatroom?" His questions are clearly orders, even though they're delivered in the politest of tones. He takes their phones and excuses himself, leaving them alone in the room. They sink down onto the bench to read.

"This place is insane," Castle whispers excitedly. "Do you think that guy's accent is real?"

Kate shrugs, skimming over the rules typed out on the heavy paper. No photos or videos, no drugs, no food or alcohol from outside, party ends strictly at 3am, no touching other couples unless specifically invited, etc. Nothing they can't handle. It actually sounds like a pretty safe and well-organized party.

The thin man returns with two black silk eye masks and two flutes of champagne.

"Each room will provide you with a different atmosphere. Our attendants will escort you between them for a tailored erotic journey; let them know if you require anything. Enjoy your experience," he says.

Then he opens the doors, and the house swallows them whole.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and reviewed. Your responses have had me smiling for two days straight :)_

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><p><strong>Love Shack<strong>  
>Chapter 3<p>

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><p>The first room is lit only with harshly focused spotlights. The beams slice from the ceiling straight down to the floor, and every now and then, a lithe wrist or a bare shoulder flashes in one of the colorless columns. Everything else is lost in the blackness beyond. It's actually more private than Kate would have expected. The other rooms are probably brighter, but it's a nice way to dive in to their evening.<p>

She guides Castle to an empty spot against a wall, in the shadow between two spotlights. As her eyes adjust, she sees another man in a copper mask making the rounds with a tray of drinks and canapés. She'd been a little surprised to read that it was a drug-free party, but she's glad for it. She doesn't want to experience tonight through any sort of haze. Just the smell of Castle's soap is intoxicating enough. His scent lifts from the heat at his pulse points, and breathing him in is like inhaling the fumes of a strong whiskey.

Castle moves closer to her to let the masked attendant through the crowd and his hand lands heavily on the curve of her waist. He's touched her there a thousand times before, but after months without his hands on her, it feels brand new.

Okay. Maybe she does need some haze, a little bit of liquid courage. She tilts her champagne glass to her lips and downs the crisp, sparkling liquid in one drawn-out sip, her throat working to take it all in.

It's ridiculous. He's her fiancé. He was - _is_ - almost her husband. He's touched her hundreds of times, in hundreds of ways. She spent four years daydreaming about him, and two years acting on all the pent-up desire. It shouldn't feel like their first time all over again, but it does.

Castle leans in, his lips close to her ear, the silk of his mask smooth against her cheek. "Hey. You okay?"

She nods. He downs his own champagne, then turns to set both of their empty glasses on another passing tray. The lazy pulse of the music draws all of the small noises in the room into a psychedelic symphony of sound. If it were any quieter, she's sure they'd be lost in a very long and awkward silence. She presses herself back against the wall and he follows. He's so close, but he's not touching her yet, except for the palm that's burning on her waist.

"You know," Castle says, "I've been thinking. About what I would have missed most about you if you'd been the one who disappeared for two months."

She swallows and looks away. She's not sure where he's going with this, but it's already painful. Because she doesn't have to wonder about what she'd miss about him. She knows exactly how much it had hurt to lose him for two months.

"And?"

"Well, I would have missed the eye-rolling," he says.

It surprises her, and she looks up, making eye contact with him for the first time since they entered the house. She can barely see the blue of his eyes behind his mask. Still, something ignites between them.

"And I would have missed your collarbone," he murmurs, warmth unfurling over her as he speaks. He brings his free hand hand up between them, fingers hovering over her skin, but he stops just before he touches her.

"May I?"

She tilts her own mouth to his ear. "You don't have to ask, Castle," she whispers.

He closes the distance between them, running his fingers over the jut of bone at her neck slowly, reverently. He starts at one shoulder and traces the bowed shape of it from one side to the other, then his fingertips find their way back to rest just at the top of her sternum.

"A thousand other things," he says, and it doesn't sound like a line at all, it sounds like he's truly speechless in the face of all the things he loves about her.

"You know I think you're exquisite, right?"

His words finally make it through the messy tangle of her mind and she finally just _feels_. He's been saying the right things all along, really, but this is the first time she manages to truly put the evidence and doubt aside.

Something releases inside of her. They're in a room full of other couples, but he's always known how to make her feel like they're the only people around.

She ducks her head, a little embarrassed by the praise, but thoroughly pleased. "Mmm, exquisite, huh?" Her fingertips curl through his belt loops and she tucks her bottom lip under her teeth as she pulls him into her.

"God, Kate, of course. I know things have changed for you, but they haven't changed for me."

She wants to tell him that nothing's changed for her either, not behind the temporary wall she'd erected to protect herself, in a place where she's still in awe of him and completely, stupidly in love with him, but she's obliterated by his nearness and she can't seem to find the words.

Their lips are almost touching, and with the proximity comes a physical pull, a magnetic force that tends to close the distance between them with a sudden snap when they get too close. It's the same pull she'd felt after their first undercover kiss. What made her dive back in for more. At the time, she told herself that they'd needed to distract the guard a little longer, but the truth of it was that she couldn't deny herself one more taste of him.

They're undercover again, in the most unlikely of places, and she knows what's coming just like she did that night in the alley when he'd grabbed her arm to stop her from drawing her gun.

Their lips meet in a searing kiss.

The dam breaks. Finally,_ finally_. This is the kiss she wanted in that hospital room. This is the kiss that will rebuild them.

She opens for him and sensations slide over her like silk. She doesn't know if it's from his mask or his mouth - all she knows is that she can't get enough, will never have enough of what this man does to her. She still can't believe that after so many years of emptiness she found this intoxicating joy with someone, with _him _of all people, and she loves him so much she could happily let him kiss the breath right out of her body. He must feel the same way, because he doesn't stop, doesn't let her go even when she's on the verge of fainting. But her body won't give up without a fight, and she can feel herself peeling away from his hungry mouth even though it's the last thing she wants.

He presses his forehead into hers, his breath coming fast and heavy.

"Wow," he whispers.

"Yeah," she agrees, half-laughing at herself. At them.

_This_ is them.

Castle's already craving another taste of her. Now that they've started, he's not about to stop.

"Hmm, what else would I have missed?" he wonders aloud. "Kissing you here, I think," and then he trails his lips down to that spot on her neck where she's wildly ticklish if she's not in the mood. Instead of giggling, she lets out an explicit little gasp, and he grins against her skin. She's definitely in the mood.

She finally becomes aware of the heat that's pressing against her just above where their thighs meet. And then Castle starts sucking on her neck and everything speeds up, his hands over her body, her lips on his neck, and then they're rolling against one another, her back slamming up tight against the wall and her hips working feverishly against him.

They forget that they're at a kinky sex party. They forget everything except the fire that they're stoking between them. He lifts her off the ground and her legs have just started to come up around his waist when someone next to them clears their throat.

Seriously. Seriously?

Castle throws his head back and groans. He turns to look at who's interrupted them this time. He decides right then and there that in the morning, he's booking a trip for them to a deserted island. He'll use every resource he has to get Gates to approve Beckett's vacation request. It might be a bit tougher after that tactical smooch, but he's got connections.

"Sir? Ma'am?" The man responsible for his hand not being up Beckett's dress right now is one of the increasingly annoying attendants.

"If you'd like to come with me?" he says.

"Are we in trouble?" Castle asks. He's seen other people in this room doing worse - a lot worse - and wearing less.

"Of course not, sir. Although perhaps you'd like to follow me to your next room?"

Ah, yes. The tailored experience. The case. They're undercover. Right.

"That sounds great," Kate says, smoothing her dress and re-adjusting her mask.

The man turns and they can't really do anything but follow. Kate's a little wobbly on her heels and Castle steadies her without thinking. As they walk through the room, he stays close to her back, trying to conceal the very obvious evidence of how much he was enjoying his fiancé. They almost lose the attendant as he weaves through the other couples, but they finally make it to the other side of the room to a set of double doors.

"He'd better let us pick up where we left off," Castle grumbles lowly.

Kate smiles and reaches behind her back for his fingers, bringing their clasped hands up to her heart and squeezing tight. She takes a deep breath to prepare herself for what might await them in the next room.

The attendant opens the doors and lets them through.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Please be aware that this chapter is rated M._

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><p><strong>Love Shack<strong>  
>Chapter Four<p>

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><p>The next room is brighter, but not by much. There are candles mounted on the walls, live flames that throw shadows over the golden glow of the room. Kate instinctively checks for a fire extinguisher, because the place is just an accident waiting to happen. There are dozens of chiffon strips hanging from the ceiling, in all different colors, and the fabric sways gently as the room's occupants move. It looks like Cleopatra's palace, opulent and sensual.<p>

But the biggest difference between this room and the last is that there's furniture here, and the couples are definitely making good use of the couches. And chairs. And tables. Kate blushes, not out of embarrassment, exactly, and looks away from the couple nearest them. Then she remembers that if they didn't want her to look they wouldn't be here. The man's back is to them, and bare. She can't help but think that he looks thin and pale compared to the man beside her. Her man. There's one last piece of furniture available, a black chaise lounge with ornate clear legs.

"You, um, wanna go save us a place, and I'll get us something to eat?" Kate asks, toying with the top button of Castle's shirt.

"Uh, sure. But don't leave me alone out there, okay?" He looks genuinely frightened, but the attendants are never far; she'll only have to leave his side for a few seconds. She watches as he goes, admiring the way his dark blue shirt stretches over his broad shoulders.

She turns to find some food and a tray passes by right under her nose. She grabs what looks like two shot glasses made from hard chocolate, filled with some tantalizingly dark liquid. She heads over to her partner. Castle's sitting on the middle of the chaise lounge, hands clasped over his lap, one leg bouncing up and down nervously, but the fidgeting stops as she walks up.

"Got you a treat."

He eyes the tiny chocolate glasses. "Good thing we ate before we came, huh?"

But instead of taking one, he plucks them both from her hands and sets them on a small marble table next to their chaise. Then he tugs on the hem of her dress so she comes to stand between his knees. She lets him dig his chin into her stomach for a second, twining her fingers through the silk-soft hair at the nape of his neck. Then she twists in his arms and perches playfully on one firm thigh. His fingers feather over her knee, then creep up to the straps holding her stockings up. She grins at the way he's so totally mesmerized by the garters. She makes a mental note to move them to her top drawer back at the loft so they can get a little more action.

"Now, where were we?" Castle asks, brushing his nose against hers. His touch is soft, light, and he keeps sliding away just when she's about to kiss him, moving to caress her jaw, the soft skin beneath her eye, her earlobe. The build-up is dizzying, but he finally tilts his face up and captures her bottom lip between his. She's instantly prying at him, forcing his lips apart, sliding into him, and he's meeting her stroke for stroke, drowning her in a hot wet tangle of bliss. She can feel him pressing insistently against her thigh. Then the hand on her knee is moving up, slipping under her dress, wrapping tightly around her thigh and squeezing. She's so lost in the kiss that her knees part for him. It's habit, or muscle memory, or both. He takes it as an invitation. Clever man.

When his fingers reach the exposed warmth of her hot hollow, he groans.

"You didn't tell me you weren't wearing anything under your garter belt," he breathes against her lips.

"Where's the fun in telling you?" she manages to pant before quickly re-attaching her mouth to the side of his neck. Besides, she wouldn't want to lose any more of her favorite lingerie to one of their escapades. Easier just not to bring anything she'd have to take off.

She gasps as he runs his finger over her, along her. Maybe it's the atmosphere, or the champagne, or just him, but her nerve endings are already buzzing, everything heightened, more visceral, more real than it's been in a long time. He doesn't linger long before pressing one finger into her - or is it two? She can't tell; it's been a while. He swirls inside her and an filthy little _oh _tumbles from her lips right into his ear.

"What's it like, Kate?"

She looks at him questioningly, but he moves within her again and she moans, unable to ask him what he means.

"What's it like being in a room full of people, knowing that I'm touching you? That I'm inside you?"

_Fuck._

She's losing control, and fast. She clamps her knees down on his arm and takes a deep breath to slow herself down. Her unfocused gaze lands on the chocolate on the table, and she leans forward just a bit to reach for one of the glasses. She uses her thumb to open Castle's mouth, then she brings the chocolate up and lets him taste it. He hums.

"Nice?" she asks.

"Try it." He takes the other glass from the table tips it to her lips, one hand still buried between her legs. It's chocolate too, thick and dark and spicy, and laced with something alcoholic.

"That might be the best thing I've ever tasted," she purrs.

"Mmm. I know something that tastes better."

Before she can reply, he's tilting her backwards, laying her down on the chaise lounge and she's not sure where the rest of the chocolate has gone but she really doesn't care. Castle's body is heavy and warm over her. His mouth closes on hers for a hard, quick kiss, and then he leaves her, the air suddenly chilly against her face as his heat moves down her body.

He presses the hem of her dress up to the top of her thighs. The material is stretchy and forgiving, and he can get at her without exposing her to the room very much. Still, she crooks one arm over her face, hiding in her elbow as he starts to slowly lap at her, explore her, devour her, and she wonders what she tastes like mixed in with the chocolate in his mouth.

Castle licks away her ability to think. He's always excelled at this, almost obnoxiously so, but she's overjoyed to have him back between her legs. The sexiest thing about it is how much he likes to do this to her. She can tell by the humming vibrations of his chest on her leg, and by the way he presses deeper into her, like he can't get close enough.

And then he decides he needs to get even closer, so he grabs her knee and jerks it up so that her leg rests on the top of the chaise lounge. He pulls her roughly down towards him at the same time and her hair, a curled mess of waves that took an hour to do, fans out around her head. She feels wanton, and wild, and so, so very good, and people must be watching them by now. Her dress is up around her waist, but she doesn't care because her partner is back, Castle is back, and he's about to make her come for the first time in two and a half months.

She grabs her own hair with one hand and the velvet upholstery of the chaise lounge with the other when she comes. He doesn't stop, knows that even though she's thrashing and saying _enough, enough_, she loves that he doesn't let up, and isn't that just the way of them? He knows his cues though, and when the aftershocks are too intense to hold inside her body, she smacks his shoulder and he surfaces, grinning like a lunatic, his chin gleaming and pupils blown.

He covers her right away, and she suddenly notices the people around them. One of them has the balls to lift their champagne glass up in a silent toast, and she blushes and nods back, then closes her eyes against the room.

Castle gathers her up, letting her hide in him until legs stop shaking and her heartbeats slow. He kisses her forehead, and she almost cries with relief. They haven't gone all the way yet, but she knows now that they'll make it.

She hears Castle murmur a thank you, and at first she thinks it's to her, but then he's nuzzling his way under the cocoon of her hair.

"Kate?"

"Mmm?"

"Um, one of the freaky attendants just gave me a key. I can only assume it's for the fantasy suite. Seems like Dionysus has been watching too much _Bachelor_," he jokes. "What do you say? You wanna go to a private room?"

She straightens and looks at the ornate golden key in Castle's palm.

"I'd love that."


	5. Chapter 5

_Please be aware that this chapter is rated M._

* * *

><p><strong>Love Shack<strong>  
>Chapter Five<p>

* * *

><p>The upstairs hallway is carpeted in a deep, sinking sea of purple. Kate wobbles on her heels as they search for the room bearing the star symbol that matches their key.<p>

"Here we are," says Castle. He unlocks the heavy mahogany door and pushes it open, palm sliding over the curve of Kate's ass to guide her inside. Even though there's another masked attendant at the end of the hallway, Castle dips his fingers down under the hem of her dress just to feel the slick after effects of what he'd done to her on the chaise lounge. She startles at the touch, then twists to glare at him. She wants to be affronted, but he's just so adorably sexy, so she surges forwards, wiping the cocky smirk off his face with a hard kiss. He catches her, gathering her body up against his, deepening the kiss until her back bends and she has to grab his face to keep her balance. He kicks the door closed.

They stumble into the room and come face to face with the biggest bed either of them have ever seen, covered in just one black fitted sheet that shines like silk. There are candles here too, and the room smells amazing, like Christmas and vanilla and forbidden pleasures. Kate walks to the end of the bed and trails her fingers along the cool fabric. Castle comes up behind her, pressing her hair away from her neck with delicate fingers. She tilts her head to give him better access, her eyes drifting closed. She revels in the feel of her partner's hot mouth on her skin, the strength of his chest so warm and solid behind her. She lifts her ass, seeking him out, pressing back against the rigid part of him that must aching by now. He works at her neck, sucking and nipping hungrily. She can tell he's just on the verge of losing control and throwing her on the bed when suddenly - he stops.

"Uh, Kate?" he asks, voice unsteady. "What is that?"

She peels her eyes open and follows his gaze to the bedside table_._

"Well, I'd say it's a video camera."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

She scans the room. "There's another one over there."

There are three cameras in total, and they're all pointed at the bed, angled in such a way that they might catch the most salacious views of whoever's sprawled out on the sheets.

Her arousal is still hot and sticky in her veins, and if she was with anyone else, she'd tell him that she doesn't mind and stretch out on the bed anyway. They are wearing masks, after all. But he's Richard Castle and a leaked video like this could cause a lot of damage, not to mention make his daughter want to move to Timbuktu if she ever saw it.

But then Kate gets an idea. She didn't spend a semester in pre-law at Stanford for nothing, and her knowledge is about to help them get a lead.

"Hold on a second, babe," she whispers. Castle nods, trusting her even if he doesn't know exactly what plan she's concocting. As much as he wants to ravage her, they're still technically on the job. If they go home with nothing but hickeys they might be in trouble.

Kate pokes her head out the door and calls to the attendant in the hallway.

"Excuse me, can I ask you something?" The man is at their door immediately, ready to help in whatever way he can. He's probably expecting a request for chocolate syrup or protection or a whip or something.

Kate purrs her words, working her charm on the attendant, and Castle starts to poke around the room, only half-listening as he explores their den of iniquity.

"Is there something wrong with the room, ma'am?" the attendant asks.

"No, the room is gorgeous, it's just … well, we really love the idea of being watched, but we're both high-profile lawyers in the city, and I just want to be sure that the footage from the cameras in our room isn't going to be distributed or posted online."

"I understand ma'am. Dionysus would like to reassure you that the video is being streamed live via a closed circuit for his own private viewing, and that the connection is very secure."

Kate flashes an alluring smile. "I don't want to be difficult, and we don't need anything fancy - my husband and I do want to enjoy our room as soon as possible - but do you think we could just get something in writing?"

"Of course, ma'am. Dionysus has legal documents prepared in the event of such a request. I'll just get some quickly printed up for you."

"Perfect," Kate smiles. She closes the door and turns back to find Castle peering into the top drawer of an ornate dresser. "Find anything good?" she asks. He lifts out a long sash of black silk. One end slithers into a puddle at his feet, and he twists the other end around his knuckles suggestively.

"This could be fun," he says, waggling his eyebrows and advancing on her.

He's interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hold that thought," Kate says, turning to open the door as her partner growls.

"Sir, ma'am? Here are the documents you requested." The man hands over a thin sheaf of papers and a pen. Castle's in no position to check them over. Most of the blood in his body is straining against the zipper of his pants, so he sits down on the edge of the bed and fiddles with the silk scarf.

Kate scans over the legal documents quickly, then she scrawls her fake name on the bottom line next to an amorphous scrawl that must be Dionysus's real signature. She studies it for as long as she can without attracting suspicion, but she can't really make out anything other than a P at the beginning. She hands it to Castle to sign, then returns it to the man.

"Can we keep a copy for ourselves?" she asks.

"Of course, ma'am." The man takes Dionysus' copy and bows quietly out of the room. Kate grins and folds their papers, setting them by the door and slipping her shoes off to place on top of them. She may have only got one letter of their host's name, but she also has the name of the legal firm who drew up the papers. Jordan can certainly work with that. And now that they've got a lead, she feels like they deserve to celebrate.

She saunters towards Castle, her feet falling soft and silent on the carpet. She's got that look in her eye, the predatory one that makes him gulp. She stands before him like some sort of towering goddess and gently tugs the silk scarf out of his hands.

"Take off your clothes, Rick," she murmurs.

Castle obliges immediately and starts in on the buttons of his shirt. He's not stupid enough to argue with his fiancé's dark gaze. Besides, he's never really struggled with stage fright. She watches like a cat about to pounce as he strips for her, slowly sliding his shirt off and laying it on the bed beside him.

He stands up to unbuckle his belt, and even though he's a good several inches taller than her in stockinged feet, bearing down on her wearing his most dangerous expression, she has all the power. She keeps her eyes firmly locked on his. The scarf never stops weaving between her fingers.

He steps out of his dress pants and is about to slide his boxer briefs off when she stops his fingers with her own.

He raises an eyebrow. "What have you got planned for me?" he asks, voice low and cracked with desire. After all, he can still smell her on his fingers, on his own face, and he needs a release of his own. Making Kate Beckett come is his favorite pastime, and going down on her had been amazing, but now he just wants to fill her up.

"Hmm, someone's impatient." Kate extends one finger and jabs him right in the center of his chest. He falls back onto the bed easily, and then she's crawling over him in those damn black stockings and tiny dress and it takes all of his self control not to flip her over and press her down into the mattress. She asks him to scoot up the bed and close his eyes.

He waits, his body unmoving even though his mind is jumping from fantasy to fantasy, and he's about to ask where she's gone when he feels something.

The first touch is cool. The silk slides over his chest in a side-winding pattern down to his belly button. And then her fingers follow, mapping him, re-learning him, and he wonders if he looks the same to her. Other than the new scar, obviously. But he doesn't want to think about his disappearance right now; he just wants to block everything out except for the wicked game this woman is playing above him. She must not want to think about it either, because she treats the gnarled ridge under his ribcage just like the rest of his skin, skimming her fingertips lightly over every centimeter of his chest, shoulders, arms.

And then the warmth of her touch disappears and the silk returns, this time in a taut line that spans his chest. The goosebumps she'd drawn up with her nails just seconds ago had raised his nipples, and she flicks the tight line of the scarf over them. He flexes his pecs for her and she lets out a soft sound that would be a giggle if she wasn't so aroused.

It's an interesting sensation, one that he doesn't imagine many men get to feel, something light and delicate, and he wants to return it, to scrape his teeth over her tight flesh.

And then a curve of warm skin brushes over his cheek. He grins. She's read his mind, as usual. He darts up to catch her bare nipple between his teeth, tugs. She lets him work at her, gasping with each lick and bite and swirl, but she eventually slides away from the wetness of his mouth.

She's gone for a moment, then the hot wet touch of her tongue returns at the line of his boxer briefs. She lifts the elastic carefully over his tip and starts to slide his underwear down. He lifts his hips to help her get them over the swell of his ass, her breasts brushing his thighs as she descends with them. He has to open his eyes to see her reaction to seeing him - all of him - for the first time in months. She's twisted away from him, depositing his clothes in a neat pile behind her.

"Ri-ck," she chides, her voice singsongy. "You opened your eyes." She's not even looking at him. How does she know? The woman's detective skills are out of this world.

She turns back to him, her dress bunched around her waist. He wants to say hello to her breasts, to tell them that he's missed them these last two weeks, to flick his tongue over the tiny mark on her left areola that mirrors the one on her cheek. The sight of her makes him grow, and her eyes drift down, darkening like a gathering storm. And then she's trailing the scarf over his stomach again, and then lower, to where he's standing proudly for her. She winds the silk in circles around the base of his cock, and he groans. It's nice, but it's cool and he wants heat.

"Take off that damn dress and get over here," he growls.

She tugs the tight elastic over her hips, leaving the dress in a puddle on the floor, and then she crawls up next to him, propping herself up on her side. She slides her foot along his calf, arches her spine so her warmest, wettest parts nudge against his waist. Castle looks up at her like she's sacred, his left hand coming up to fondle her breasts, brushing his thumb over her tender, stiffened skin. She hums, letting the delicate pleasure tingle over her chest, moving only to lean over him to pick up the silk sash. She winds it around his left wrist twice, and he lifts it above his head, assuming she wants to tie him to the wrought-iron headboard. Instead, she tugs his arm back towards her.

"As much as I love tying you to the bed," she whispers, "that's not what I want tonight."

She winds her left arm under his neck and aligns it with his. Then she weaves the fabric in figure eights around both of their wrists. The way she binds them together feels familiar, somehow. Understanding flickers in Castle's eyes as he realizes what she's done.

"Kinky," he growls. It's what he'd said when they'd woken up in that creepy basement, their left wrists cuffed together with metal instead of silk.

They've come a long way. He looks at the woman at his side, and instead of a modest light-blue turtleneck and jeans, she's wearing a garter belt and black thigh high stockings, her chest bared to him and her smile soft and adoring. And this time, the only masks between them are physical, the black silk hiding them only from the cameras. They're not hiding from each other anymore, not hiding their want, their need. Their love.

He'd loved her then, more than he thought he could hide or contain, and he loves her even more now, especially when she comes up with brilliant, kinky schemes. She's pliable under him when he tugs their linked hands above their heads and rolls onto her in a deliciously fast, hot flip that has her knees coming up to his hips and clamping hard around him.

He grinds down into her, and _oh_, there's so much bare flesh sliding against flesh. She opens her legs wide and it frees him from between their stomachs, his tip finally brushing against the place he's wanted to be for weeks. He usually tries to keep more of his weight off her, but with their hands bound together, he's heavy above her.

"Kate? Am I squishing you?"

She shakes her head vigorously. "No - you feel good - you feel perfect," she says, and he does. She's missed this. Being covered by him, being ground into the mattress by him. He feels so, _so _good. She closes her eyes, and then he's kissing her, so sensually, deeply, in that perfect way that they've been able to kiss since the very first time their lips met in an undercover ruse in a dingy alley. Kissing Castle was something that never needed practice, just repetition. Lots of repetition.

She's moaning then, rolling in the sensation of having him above her. The pleasure of being this physically close to her partner again is almost too much to bear. Castle catches her lower lip between his teeth. At the same time, he adjusts the angle of his hips and starts to press himself into her. It's both familiar and devastatingly new. She knows that she couldn't have changed very much in two months but he feels bigger, more incredible. It takes more effort to fit him inside her, but the glide is slow and the friction is unbelievable, and she has to bite her lip when she wants to croak out _'Castle.'_ She catches herself just in time to say _'Rick' _instead.

"Y'okay?" he asks roughly when at last he's buried in her.

"Never been better," she hums.

And then he starts moving and she gets lost in a woozy carnival ride of pleasure. Beckett's always been loud in bed, but the noises she's making now are verging on obscene. He wonders if it's for the cameras, but he gets the impression that she's completely forgotten where they are.

He knows she has when the first syllable of his _last_ name starts to erupt from her mouth on a scream, and he clamps his mouth over hers to muffle the rest of it. It's the perfect storm, his hips circling at the end of each thrust, his mouth on hers, and she can't stop the freight train of an orgasm that hits her.

He manages to hold on, barely, and he stills inside her as she comes down, gritting his teeth to keep from joining her as her walls flutter around him. When she's finally calm beneath him, he kisses her nose.

"That looked like fun," he says, awed at the force of her release.

Her eyes are lazy, unfocused, and then they sweep down to where they're still joined and she realizes he didn't follow her off the edge of ecstasy.

"Rick - "

"We've got all night, Kate. Had to hold on."

Her eyes flame, because she's desperate to give him a taste of what he's already given her twice tonight. She maneuvers herself out from under him, then crawls onto her hands and knees - well, _hand_ and knees, because her left hand is still tied to his. He swallows loudly at the sight before him. She smirks. Their hands are woven together at the base of her spine, and uses the link to hold her up as he finds her swollen, sodden entrance.

She tosses him a dirty little look over her shoulder and whispers "Don't be gentle, Rick."

And then whatever tenuous hold he'd had on his control snaps and he just _moves_.

He's not sure if he's ever been quite this fast, quite this aggressive in bed before, but she's so slick and tight around him and with every jolting thrust he tries to go as far and as hard as he can, and judging from her gasping breaths and little screams, she's enjoying it. A lot.

Her "_I'm gonna - "_ and his _"Oh, fuck, Kate - "_ come at the same time, and he can barely hear the the rhythmic sound of their skin meeting over the noises they make as they wreck each other.

Castle falls onto Kate's back, their tied hands limp above their heads, and he whispers his love into her ear for whole minutes as their heartbeats slow. Her tears soak into the black silk mask, but she's smiling.

They'll be okay.

And then they hear the sound of paper sliding across carpet. Castle cranes his neck to look at the door. A thick cream envelope with a velvety purple seal waits proudly on the floor. He doesn't get up right away, but eventually he peels himself from Kate's back, unties their wrists, and walks over to pick up the note.

He reads it and his face lights up.

"What does it say?" Kate asks, still lazy with bliss on the bed.

"You will not believe this, Kate," Castle crows, doing a little victory dance. Stark naked. He looks so ridiculous that Kate has to bury her face in the mattress to muffle her laughter.

He hands her the envelope and her mouth falls open in disbelief.

"Seriously?!"

* * *

><p><em>One more chapter to go ... if you want more that is? *saucy wink*<em>


	6. Chapter 6

.

* * *

><p><strong>Love Shack<strong>  
>Chapter Six<p>

* * *

><p><em>Previously…<em>

_Castle falls onto Kate's back, their tied hands limp above their heads, and he whispers his love into her ear for whole minutes as their heartbeats slow. Her tears soak into the black silk mask._

_They'll be okay._

_And then they hear the sound of paper sliding across carpet. Castle cranes his neck to look at the door. A thick cream envelope with a velvety purple seal waits proudly on the floor. He doesn't get up right away, but eventually he peels himself from Kate's back, unties their wrists, and walks over to pick up the note._

_He reads it and his face lights up._

_"What does it say?" Kate asks, still lazy with bliss on the bed._

_"You will not believe this, Kate," Castle crows, doing a little victory dance. Stark naked. He looks so ridiculous that Kate has to bury her face in the mattress to muffle her laughter._

_He hands her the envelope and her mouth falls open in disbelief._

_"Seriously?!"_

* * *

><p>"Can we go? Can we go? Pleeeeease can we go?" Castle begs.<p>

Kate stares down at the invitation. A private Dionysus party. They'd be one of only ten "all-star" couples for an entire weekend of salacious, filthy, forbidden fun at a resort mansion in Mexico. She smirks at the last line: a_ccomodation, travel, and toys of all types included_.

She's secretly pleased that they've received an invite, and the way their names are handwritten across the top makes it feel personal, makes it feel like a compliment. But she has to wonder if their host has somehow found out that she's an undercover cop. How many couples get catapulted to all-star status after just one party? She knows exactly what Castle would say to that - that they aren't just any couple. And she enjoys their explosive chemistry - _a lot -_ but she's still not sure that it comes across so obviously to everyone else. Although the assorted comments from her friends over the years suggest that the fireworks that burn so deliciously to her might be pretty exciting to watch from the outside, too.

Suddenly, Castle jumps onto the bed. He bowls her over, landing beside her and bouncing her up and down with the force of his landing.

"Please? Pretty please?"

She rolls her eyes, but then decides to appease him. Maybe a little bit because the idea of going to another one of these parties is too tempting to pass up.

"After tonight, did you think I'd say no?" she whispers into his ear, grabbing his ass and pinching hard at the same time. She laughs when he growls. But he got the answer he wanted, so he pumps a celebratory fist into the air.

"Come on, Ricky," she laughs, "get your clothes on."

"Are you sure you don't want to…" Castle launches his body closer to hers, half-covering her with the naked heat of him, and damn, where'd he get this sugar rush from? She cranes her neck up for a quick kiss.

"It's almost three," she protests, but then he's rolling fully on top of her and kissing her deeply and_ mmm,_ yes she could certainly go for another round -

"You're right," he says, pulling his mouth away from hers and dropping a little smacking kiss on the tip of her nose. "I'd rather not get interrupted by those creepy mask dudes again."

Her body groans with the disappointing loss of his weight above her. She twists his wrist to check the time, and there's really not enough even for a quickie. And a quickie is the last thing she wants now that they've stoked the flames. She rises from the bed reluctantly, finding her dress and sliding it up over her hips. She's still wearing her stockings. Castle takes longer to dress, and as he buckles his belt, she can't resist helping him out a little bit, and having her hands so close to certain parts of him predictably ends with her cupping him through his slacks, and then he presses a smug little kiss into her mouth, and the buttons of his shirt are forgotten.

She's giddy with their sudden return to normality. It feels as desperate and exciting as when they first got together, that long, wonderful summer spent mostly in bed and on the sunny sidewalks of Manhattan, sickeningly sweet in love and always only minutes away from another kiss or roll in the hay.

They peek out of their room and see a few other scantily clad couples stumbling down the hallway, drunk on sex or champagne, or both. They follow the flow, corralled by the attendants, and collect their phones at the door before plunging back into the real warm pressure of the mansion gives way to a frigid October night, and Kate tucks herself under Castle's arm as they make their way back to their flashy ride. A few other couples straggle towards their vehicles, but the low pitches of the men's voices are lost in the empty field surrounding the house. Only the women's intoxicated giggles cut through the air.

Castle opens the passenger door for her and Kate smiles as she ducks inside. She can't help but notice how the atmosphere in the car is completely different to what it was on their drive out here. He slides into the seat next to her and their hands knock together over the gear shift, both reaching for the soft spot high up on each other's thighs, the default resting place for their hands on drives to the Hamptons, drives to restaurants, sometimes drives in the cruiser if he's been very good and they're not on an urgent case.

Castle needs his right hand to shift, but when they make it to the highway he turns on cruise control and rests his palm on the inside of her thigh, so high up that his pinkie almost brushes against the parts of her that are still a little fizzy and achy - in a good way - from this evening's activities.

They're not far from the city when the first pinks and yellows of the day start to tint the sky from the bottom up. Castle nods at the marquee that's rapidly approaching, advertising a kitschy roadside diner half a mile ahead on the left.

"Hungry?" he asks.

"Famished, actually."

"Yes, well, sex with a ruggedly handsome writer will do that to you."

"I'm not the one who's got stars in his eyes at the prospect of bacon and eggs."

"Yep. Sex with a stunningly gorgeous and kinky detective will do that to you too."

She pinches his thigh, but doesn't bother trying to hide the smile that's breaking like dawn on her face.

* * *

><p>Even though she left the sheer black stockings in the car, she gets a few looks from the early-morning inhabitants of the diner. She can't bring herself to care, not when Castle is at her back, his hand resting appreciatively on the curve of her hip, his heart thudding at her shoulder.<p>

She slides into a booth and he takes the seat next to her instead of across from her, the way they do at Remy's only when they know they won't be spotted by anyone they know at the precinct. Kate crosses her legs and leans into her partner. He still looks a little stunned at the whole course of their evening, and more than a little lovestruck. It's a look she hasn't seen on him in a while, not so pure anyway, and she likes it.

The waiter comes to take their orders: french toast for her and basically one of everything else on the breakfast menu for him, along with two very large, very hot coffees.

As the sun rises over the diner truck, it glints off the row of cars parked out front and something loosens between them. Castle rubs meandering circles into her bare knee, and Kate rests her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad we went," she says softly.

"Me too."

They're quiet for a moment, both smiling ever so slightly, remembering the wall. The chaise lounge. The room, the cameras, the black silk tie.

"Who would have thought?" Kate wonders aloud, fiddling with the handle on her coffee mug. "A kinky sex party was all we needed."

He knows exactly what she means even though she doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to reference the terrifying, sickening moment where they'd both thought they might never find their way home.

"We just needed some reminders of how amazing we are together," he says gently. "I'm just glad you didn't turn me down in there."

She looks at him in a haze of confusion. "Turn you down? I would have never turned you down."

"You mean you've been … wanting this? For the past three weeks?"

"Oh, Castle. Of course I've been wanting it." She's been wanting it from day one, physically at least. "I think I was just afraid that if we had sex and it didn't close the emotional gap, we'd be out of options. Out of ideas for how to fix things."

He thinks for a moment. "Weird, huh? It's almost like we were right back where we started. I wanted you, you wanted me, but we were both too afraid to make the first move, risk our hearts."

Their food comes, but he ignores it. He takes the time to tilt her face up to his, kiss her gently, ever so slowly, and it trickles down through her like warm honey, dripping down slowly over her stomach, between her thighs.

They eat and then drive across the bridge into Manhattan, never taking their hands off each other, binding themselves back together even tighter than they were before.

* * *

><p>The city is still quiet when they slip into the loft. There's a note on the kitchen counter, cheerleading in written form from his mother, who's holed up at The Mandarin Oriental (on his dime, of course). In the note, Martha brags about how she'd coerced Alexis back to campus to stay at her friend Paige's dorm for the weekend, to 'get a taste of the real student life'.<p>

Castle's eyes light up when he realizes they're alone.

"So, Mrs. Almost-Castle. May I take you to bed?"

She pounces on him.

"You can take me," she breathes into his ear even as she bites at it. "But it doesn't have to be to bed."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Thanks for going on this naughty little ride with me. I have more delicious plans for Caskett at Dionysus Parties. After all, our favorite couple did get a special invitation, so keep your eyes peeled for a sequel! It might be a few weeks though, my smut fairies (who live in my head and inspire these kinds of fics) are exhausted and need some time to refuel! Immense thanks to Meg - without her whips and chains and smut fairy fuel, this chapter might never have made its way onto the screen. :)<em>

_I'm still pretty new to writing fanfiction, and writing at all, really, so let me know what's working and what's not so I can make better stories for you to read!_


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